


Necklace of Stars

by alphaparrot



Series: The Necklace of Fate [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Because rwby has too many characters, Canon-Typical Violence, Clover might be demiromantic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Ozpin is still Ozpin, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Space Battles, day 1: outfits/confessions, fairgameweekend2020, raven isn't a terrible person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphaparrot/pseuds/alphaparrot
Summary: As Clover gets dressed for what may the most important day of his life thus far, he reflects on the previous years. After the Grimm attacked Beacon, a team of young pilots, plus Raven and Qrow Branwen, the best pilots in the galaxy, escaped and joined the Atlas Fleet. General James Ironwood had assigned them to Clover's Ace Operatives for a delicate diplomatic mission to a rebel mining colony--a mission that ended up changing Clover's live.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: The Necklace of Fate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952527
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for Day 1 of Fair Game Weekend 2020 -- Outfits/Confessions! I wanted to do a space opera after seeing a space-related prompt in the early set of prompt candidates, and decided I could make it fit the three prompts anyway. This is the first of a three-part series, and I may write more in the future after FGWE--I promise however that by the end of Day 3, there will be a happy ending for Qrow and Clover! Many many thanks to [delta_altair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_altair) and [thedarkpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkpoet) for your feedback, as well as to the entire Fair Game Effect server for all your wonderful support.

_ The razor slid smoothly over Clover’s skin, making a satisfying gravelly sound as it plowed up the shaving cream in front of it, along with the stubbly hairs that had grown since the last time he had shaved. He finished the pass, dunked the razor into his shaving bowl, and then into the second bowl of clean, steaming water, before beginning the next pass. He watched himself in the mirror as he shaved, his jade-green eyes flicking from the blade up to their own reflection in the glass. He tried to see himself not as himself, the same boring visage he had greeted every day for 42 years, but as another might see him--a sharp jawline, well-defined cheekbones, and penetrating green eyes that (he hoped) conveyed as much compassion as they did intelligence.  _

_ He finished shaving, grabbed a damp towel, and dabbed off the remaining shaving cream, before splashing on a small amount of aftershave. He gingerly felt his chin and neck for any stray hairs, as the faint, pleasant minty scent of the aftershave wafted to his nose. Perfect. As intended. Today had to be perfect. He took a deep breath, and bounced on his toes. _

_ “Okay, Ebi,” he said to his mirror image. “It’s good. It’s fine. Today will be perfect. For you, and also for him. Just… confidence,” he breathed. He bent low over the wash basin, brushed his teeth, and turned to the uniform waiting for him on the chair. _

~

The Atlas Fleet arrived in the SCMS-372 system with little fanfare, and even less warning. That had been at the orders of the Council, and the wishes of Jacques Schnee, the mining and extraction magnate. It was, after all, his system: two ringed gas giants, and two small, rocky planets, the latter pair replete with various valuable metals and minerals--and of course, the ever-important Dust. One of the gas giants also had a very large moon, which itself was incredibly rich with resources. Schnee surveyors had discovered the system two decades ago, and the company had established mining colonies immediately. None of the three colonized worlds bore atmospheres, but all three were far enough from the star that a miner could survive on the surface with nothing but a radiation suit and an oxygen tank. The mines of course were all underground, sealed with airlocks, and pumped with breathable air. In theory, this should have made mining easier and safer than if the miners had to work in bulky suits. Ironically, this was also the problem--and the reason the Atlas Fleet had been called in.

The gas giant’s moon, as it happened, had a sufficiently eccentric orbit that the giant planet exerted substantial tidal forces, causing occasional tremors and fractures in the moon’s crust. The miners argued that this made the use of standard air pumps and airlocks unsafe, as a tremor could cause a leak, either by weakening the seals, or opening new fractures through which gas could escape. The Schnee Corporation had responded that there had only ever been half a dozen catastrophic air pressurization failures in the eighty-year history of the company’s mining operations, and only three of those incidents had been on this particular colony. Over a million workers were employed in thousands of mines all across the small world, so the company argued there was no need for concern. 

The miners, however, thought otherwise. And when the Schnee Corporation had refused to devote any funding to tremor-resistant ventilation and pressurization systems, they had decided that enough was enough. They had commandeered nearly every Schnee vessel on surface and in orbit, and declared themselves autonomous, both from the Schnee Corporation, and from the Federatsiya. The miners on the other two planets had eagerly taken up their own arms in solidarity. 

So Jacques Schnee had made a phone call, and the Council had met, and had authorized the deployment of the Fleet. Clover didn’t think this was fully-merited. For one, nobody had bothered to suggest talking to the miners. The Schnee Corporation would of course insist that they had tried, but there were professional mediators and negotiators in the Remnant other than those that worked for the Schnee Corporation. Second, Clover doubted that a full military engagement or show of force was necessary. The Atlas Fleet was the best-equipped navy this side of the galaxy had seen in generations. A smaller contingent would have been sufficient to communicate to the rebels just how serious the Schnee Corporation was about keeping its assets. 

And third, and most importantly--the Remnant was a more dangerous place than it had once been. Grimm attacks had been on the rise in the Reaches, that dark, poorly-patrolled and under-supplied part of space where people who preferred not to live under the influence of the Federatsiya sometimes established colonies. Sometimes, the only evidence of their mistake would be rubble, and perhaps a few wrecked Grimm fighters if they’d had the sense to build defenses. And then there was Beacon--just a few years earlier, Grimm forces had attacked Beacon Station, the crown jewel of the Vale quadrant, and the communications relay that connected all of the Federatsiya. The Atlas ships stationed there had been completely overwhelmed, and the station had been lost. Clover worried that by sending the full might of the Atlas Fleet on this errand, they were taking resources away from defending those parts of the Remnant that could still be called safe. And he knew the general agreed.

That was why General James Ironwood was in an obviously bad mood as the Fleet blinked into the system, standing on the observation deck of the  _ Akademiya _ , the fleet’s command ship. 

“I hope this isn’t a mistake,” Ironwood said, not looking away from the black, star-specked expanse before them as they hurtled towards SCMS-372 c, the gas giant with the large moon, half an orbit away.

“Yes, sir,” Clover said. “We’ll do our best to ensure mission success, sir, as quickly as possible.”

“Good,” General Ironwood replied. “The sooner we can get out of here and get back to our real jobs, the better.” He turned to face Clover, along with the rest of the Ace Operatives. “I’m placing my full faith in your abilities,” he said, “but I’m not sending you out alone. Jacques Schnee wants us to force the miners down at gunpoint, but Jacques Schnee doesn’t sit on the Council, at least, not yet. I’ve arranged for a team of our own negotiators to meet with the rebel leaders. Your job will be to provide security. The last thing I want is an assassination, or for this to get violent. But the rebels don’t know us, and they don’t trust us. I don’t trust us, for that matter. I don’t trust Jacques Schnee not to have paid off one of the negotiators. So I want you to work with that new team that arrived from Beacon, after the attack. They’re not military, so the rebels might be more willing to talk to them. And Chairman Ozpin tells me they’re very good in a close fight--so if someone does try something, they can intervene. They’ll complement your skills well, I think.” Ironwood paused, locking eyes with Clover, and then with each of the Ace-Ops in turn. “Good luck, all of you. Keep your eyes peeled just in case. If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters.” 

“Yes sir, thank you sir,” Clover replied with a salute. The other Ace-Ops behind him saluted as well. Ironwood gave a quick salute in return, and marched out.

“Okay team,” Clover said, turning to the other Ace Operatives. “You heard General Ironwood. Our objective is to keep people safe, not start a war. Our secondary objective is to stay on the lookout for Grimm prowlers. All this excitement has made the system an attractive target. Hopefully that means we just do some scouting runs. But we’ll need to stay on-task, and on-target.”

“So no sight-seeing, and no excitement,” said Harriet. “Got it.” 

Clover shot the short, dark-skinned woman a sharp look. “We do this job well, and we do it quickly, Harriet,” he said, “and we might get some time off when we get back. And just for you, I’ll add extra training routines to the morning schedule the first week we’re back.” 

Vine gave a small groan, and rolled his eyes at Harriet.

“Oh, come on, Vine,” Elm said, elbowing the tall, pale man next to her. “You still haven’t beaten my score on the gauntlet run. Can’t beat me if we don’t do our training routines, eh!”

“Come on, guys, let’s stay on task!” urged Marrow, the youngest and most eager.

“Thank you, Elm, Marrow” Clover said, nodding to both of them. Elm beamed back at him. “As I was saying,” he continued, “our challenge is to not do it the easy way, and instead help our negotiating team make a deal. That’s why we’re teaming up with the Beacon squad. Half of us will go with the negotiators and make sure nobody tries anything funny. The other half will be running patrol, keeping the skies free of Grimm. We’ll meet up with the Beacon team in Launch Bay 3 in three hours. I’ll go over the team assignments there. Any questions?” All four shook their heads. “Good. Dismissed!”

The four bounded out towards their quarters, and Clover followed them. 

\--

The Ace Operatives were already present and at attention, alongside the Beacon team, when Clover strode into Launch Bay 3.

“Good, you’re all here,” Clover said. “Marrow and Vine”--he nodded to the two Ace-Ops-- “I want you with the negotiating party. Ruby Rose, Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna, and Jaune Arc”--he glanced down at the info tablet in his hand, found the pictures associated with each name, and then looked up and nodded to the woman with the red, hooded uniform, the blonde next to her, the tall brunette, and the young man with strawberry-blonde hair. Their uniforms were distinctly not Atlas-issue--Ruby Rose wore a red and black hooded uniform, Yang Xiao Long was in a tight-fitting yellow-and-black ensemble, Blake had a purple and black jumpsuit, and Jaune looked like he might have been wearing a grandparent’s old flight suit from the now-defunct Vale Navy. “You’ll go with them as well,” Clover continued. “The miners may trust you more than Marrow and Vine, since you’re not obviously military, and being from Beacon, you don’t have obvious ties to Jacques Schnee.”

“What about Weiss, though?” the young woman in red, Ruby Rose, asked. “She’s his daughter! Won’t that be a problem?”

“That’s why Weiss Schnee will be out with us on patrol,” Clover replied, nodding to the young woman next to Ruby, whose uniform matched her white hair. Weiss Schnee, he recognized. All the Schnees had the same striking hair color, and the same way of holding themselves--as if they were always in control. “If all goes well, they don’t need to know that Jacques Schnee’s daughter is here, even if they are estranged. As I was saying,” he continued, “those of you with the negotiators will be travelling with them in the transport--your job is to provide personal security. If something goes wrong, take care of it, but avoid lethal force if at all possible. Remember that our job is to keep everyone safe, and to make sure these negotiations go smoothly.”

Half a dozen heads nodded in understanding.

“The rest of you,” Clover said, turning to the remaining seven pilots, “will be on patrol with me. Raven and Qrow Branwen,”--he nodded to the dark-haired twins-- “you’ll be with me; we’ll be responsible for keeping the space immediately around the envoy clear. Elm, Lie Ren, and Nora Valkyrie,”--he nodded to Elm, the tall young man in the green uniform, and the shorter woman next to him whose pink uniform matched her hair-- “I want you scouting out the space on the far side of the planet; make sure there are no surprises waiting for us there. And Harriet and Weiss,” he said nodding to his last agent and the Schnee heiress, “I want you patrolling our periphery, particularly around the space between the  _ Akademiya  _ and the envoy. If we need to beat a retreat, I want to know that we have a safe path home. Is everyone clear on their assignment?”

Thirteen heads nodded affirmatively “Good,” Clover continued. “Best of luck, and fly safe. Envoy escort team, you can meet the negotiators at the far end of the launch bay by the shuttles,” he said, gesturing down the length of the cavernous hangar. “Assuming they’re all on time, you should be launching in the next fifteen minutes. Harriet and Weiss, get your ships prepped, and launch as soon as you’re ready; start making sure we have a clear trip to the rebels’ moon. Elm, Ren, and Nora, the same goes for you. Make sure you stay within radio contact of each other; we may lose contact with you when you go behind the gas giant. Raven and Qrow, you and I will launch just ahead of the envoy.” The twins nodded, their feathery black hair bouncing gently over their matching blood-red irises. “Alright, everyone, move out!”

Ruby, Yang, Blake, Jaune, Marrow, and Vine started walking down the hangar towards the shuttles parked in neat rows, while Harriet, Weiss, Elm, Ren, and Nora made their way to their own ships to begin preparing for launch. Clover walked up to Raven and Qrow.

“We haven’t had a chance to introduce ourselves outside of a formal briefing,” he said to them, “so I wanted to take a quick moment to say it’s a pleasure and an honor to meet the both of you. My name’s Clover Ebi. We studied the Branwen Maneuver in advanced flight training back at the academy.” He held out his hand, and Qrow reached out to take it.

“The pleasure’s ours,” he drawled. “Not every day you get to work with the most elite pilots in the Atlas Fleet. Or one with a pin to match the name.” His eyes flicked down to the pin on Clover’s chest.

Clover raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You’ve seen clovers, then?” he asked. 

Raven crossed her arms with a small  _ hmph _ . “You see a lot of things in our line of work,” she said, one eyebrow raised. “Listen, I hope you’ve got more up your sleeves than a silly trick we pulled in our teens. It wasn’t even very clever of us. Please tell me Atlas pilots do their own innovating, and don’t just study twenty-year-old stunts Beacon kids use to win Federatsiya games.”

Clover chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a smirk. “The Branwen Maneuver was new and impressive, to be sure, but part of studying it was finding the holes and vulnerabilities--you two left yourself open to defeat half a dozen ways. We’ve got plenty of tricks up our own sleeves here in the Ace Operatives. Now, I’ll technically be in charge as the leader of the mission,” Clover said, locking eyes with the both of them, “but I want to be clear--I know that the two of you are possibly the best pilots in the galaxy. If your instincts tell you something, I will listen to you. My responsibility to the team as a whole is to call the shots, but between the three of us, it’ll be to support the two of you.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Qrow replied, “though to be honest it’s been a while since either of us were part of a team.” He glanced over at his sister, who was idly fiddling with a black leather strap on the red sleeve of her uniform. “We’ve uh… we’ve both worked mostly on our own since those early days at Beacon, after-- after things changed. Losing Beacon… we’ve spent more time together since then than in the fifteen years before the attack.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “My idiot brother is a softy,” she said to Clover. “What he’s trying to say is that it’s nice to meet you, and we’ll get along fine, but don’t expect the kind of seamless teamwork you and your soldiers are used to.”

Clover shrugged. “Fine by me. Like I said, I’ll follow your lead. Now, we’d better get our own ships fueled and prepped. I’ll see you out there!”

“See you out there,” Qrow replied, with a casual salute, as he and his sister turned and walked to their sleek black-and-red ships.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team escorts the Fleet negotiators to the meeting, keeping an eye out for Grimm ships. Things almost go as planned...

_ Clover pulled on his vest, and closed the zipper, leaving the upper six inches or so unzipped, so the red interior of the lapel could fall outward over his chest. He smoothed out the wrinkles, and examined his appearance in the mirror. White, slim trousers, made of a flexible fabric that would allow him to move freely in  _ Kingfisher _ ’s cradle, but which had a sufficiently dense weave that avoided wrinkles or pleats, and almost gleamed in the light. A thin, grey cotton tank top beneath the vest’s protective leather. No sleeves, of course--he had never seen the need. He reached for the red band that hung next to the mirror, and wrapped it around his left bicep, letting it hold itself in place through the static of the Dust-woven fabric. The band was completely unnecessary, he conceded, but he thought it was a nice look, and you never knew when a strip of fabric would be useful in a pinch.  _

_ Finally, he lifted the small pin from the small table next to his bunk. It was a dark grey trefoil, hammered from a fragment of an iron meteorite. The rock had punched through the bulkhead of the  _ Manta- _ class transport he had been serving on, narrowly missed his leg, and lodged itself in a crate of long-sleeved shirts his mother had sent him. After patching the hole in the bulkhead and helping disable the cacophonous alarms, he had fished the rock out of the ruined pile of clothes. He had asked the ship’s engineer to fashion it into a pin for him, in the shape of a clover--a tiny plant native to the small, lonely world on which his mother had been born, and for which he had been named. He wore it as a reminder of his origins, as a good luck charm, and as a reminder that out in the vast emptiness of space, nothing is certain. He pinned it to the red lapel, remembering the day he had met Qrow--and how Qrow had instantly recognized the shape. _

_ He sighed, as he turned back to the mirror. Time to do something about this hair situation. He couldn’t have Qrow seeing him today with messy hair. _

~

_ Kingfisher _ sat waiting for him at the forward end of the launch bay, a beautiful craft--all gleaming white, with metallic red accents outlining the joints where wings and outriggers folded. Two shining silver steel lines ran from nose to stern; the all-important tracks that  _ Kingfisher _ would use to launch away from  _ Atlas _ . Clover hooked a hand deftly into a crevice in  _ Kingfisher _ ’s chassis and vaulted up to the top of the craft, dropping nimbly into the cockpit. He nestled into the pliant cradle, feeling the soft material fit itself around his chest and waist. He slid his legs back, finding the familiar notched squares of metal. He pressed his feet into the metal, hearing the satisfying  _ click _ , and the comforting resistance that ensued, telling him that  _ Kingfisher  _ had made the connection. He slid his arms forward, slipping his hands into two crevices on either side of the cradle. Each finger slid into its own hole, and he felt a slight constriction around each fingertip, followed by a thrumming warmth, as the Dust contacts activated. He flexed his fingers experimentally--he could now feel  _ Kingfisher’s _ flaps and actuators flex and adjust, could feel the flow of the hydraulic fluid, the gentle hum of Dust energy as the craft powered up. He sighed. This was the best part. He lowered his head into the padded basket at the front of the cradle, and the world came to life. He could see outside  _ Kingfisher _ now, could see the launch tube directly in front of him. He could see, hovering in his vision, targeting information, weapons and propulsion diagnostics, and indicators for all known craft within a hundred thousand klicks of the  _ Akademiya _ . Somewhere, out beyond  _ Akademiya _ ’s hull, two glowing blue dots labelled  _ Harbinger  _ and  _ Omen _ were already zipping around, carving tight maneuvers. 

Clover grinned. “This is  _ Kingfisher _ , ready for launch,” he said. 

“Copy that,  _ Kingfisher _ , you are go for launch,” said a young woman’s voice in his ear. “You have permission to power up and deploy.”

“Thank you, Penny,” Clover responded. He curled his fingers and pulled his arms in close, feeling  _ Kingfisher _ ’s control surfaces fold into its body. He flexed his toes as he pulled his knees in close, feeling the twin steel tracks begin to thrum. Ahead of him, blue Dust circuits and coils lit up in the tube, waiting to launch  _ Kingfisher _ at enormous speed into the emptiness of space. He pushed off--the thrusters pulsed briefly, and the steel tracks caught the acceleration field of the Dust, ramming themselves through it at ever-increasing speed.

Moments later, he was out, and the  _ Akademiya _ was falling away behind him. He spread his arms and legs;  _ Kingfisher _ ’s control surfaces and propulsion arms snapped outwards, and then he was free, peeling gracefully through swooping turns and tight loops, as  _ Kingfisher _ , now an extension of his own body, translated minute impulses and motions into bursts of the thrusters and adjustments to the Dust field that stabilized the craft’s orientation. 

He set his bearing for  _ Harbinger  _ and  _ Omen _ , and then set his communications frequency bands to match theirs, his eyes quickly and effortlessly flicking through the menus popping up in his vision.

“Hey you two,” he said into the new, private connection. “How’s the weather out here?”

“Crystal clear,” Qrow whooped, as  _ Harbinger _ pulled out of a wide loop.

“No sign of trouble so far,” Raven confirmed, “and no reports from the others yet, either. But it’s also only been ten minutes. Don’t get your hopes up yet.”

“Rae, we both know you only get your hopes up if you have someone to fight,” Qrow replied.

“That’s why I’m not getting my hopes up yet, you doofus, there’s nobody out here to fight, except for our dear Captain Ebi back there.”

“I’m not fighting either of you,” Clover chimed in. “And while I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves, the envoy is about to launch. Let’s try to keep chatter a little low on the trip out, just in case the others have anything to report.”

“Yes, Captain!” Qrow replied--perhaps a touch too enthusiastically, Clover thought. Oh well. They’d make this work. The Branwen Twins  _ were _ , after all, the best pilots in the galaxy. He was lucky to have their wings out here. At least, that was what he told himself.

\--

The journey to the gas giant’s moon was relatively uneventful. Harriet and Weiss found a lone  _ Beowolf _ -class Grimm rooting through some debris from an old satellite, and destroyed it before it had even noticed them. Elm, Nora, and Ren had encountered a small pack of  _ Sabyr _ -class fighters prowling through a gap in the gas giant’s rings. They had effortlessly pursued the Grimm through the icy fields of the rings until each had met a fiery end, Nora’s triumphant whoops and hollers filling the airwaves with each kill. But nothing had come close enough to the negotiators’ shuttle to merit any excitement from Clover, Qrow, and Raven. 

After the shuttle docked and the envoy had disembarked, their security detail in tow, Clover, Raven, and Qrow settled into low orbits around the moon, letting themselves coast on the gravitational tug of the small body, ensuring that one of them was always close to the outpost where the envoy was meeting, while also keeping an eye on the space around the moon. Clover had an audio feed from the meeting piped into his ear, courtesy of Marrow, just to keep an eye on things. He wanted to be able to act quickly if something went wrong on the ground. 

As he listened to the proceedings, he invited Qrow and Raven to join him in his favorite pastime while on patrol in a new system. Every inhabited system in the Remnant was sufficiently far apart that the arrangement of bright, visible stars was often unrecognizable. Only one constellation, a roughly hourglass-shaped arrangement of stars, bisected by three in a row, remained recognizable between a handful of systems--those stars happened to all still be near their birth cluster, so their appearance together was more than random chance. Here, however, their familiar grouping was nowhere to be seen. As was the case in most of the systems they had deployed to recently. So in the absence of recognizable constellations, whenever Clover had quiet moments like this on patrol, he made his own.

“See that grouping north of us, near the two really bright ones that almost look like they might be a binary system?” he asked. “Kind of looks like that might be a spoon.”

“Ebi, what kind of spoons do you use on the  _ Akademiya _ ?” Qrow asked.  _ Harbinger _ was currently just descending over the horizon to  _ Kingfisher _ ’s starboard side, so he knew Qrow had an easy view of the same potential constellation. Raven had declined to participate in the game, but Qrow had happily joined in.

“Alright, what do you think it looks like, then?” Clover asked.

“Looks like a hat to me.”

Clover looked again at the grouping of stars. No way. “Nice try, Branwen,” he replied. “If that’s a hat, then I’ve been wearing the wrong things on my head.”

“No, really--” Qrow insisted. “Look, see, the straight ones are the brim, and the other ones make the rest of the hat.”

“Qrow, that brim is  _ curved! _ ”

“Look,” Qrow replied, “a hat with a large, floppy brim is a good look. Next time we’re back at Atlas Station, I’ll take you to a haberdashery. Trust me. You’d look good in this hat.”

“Alright, fine,” Clover chuckled. “It’s a hat. How about…” he scanned the sky for another potential grouping. “Next time you come around the horizon, there’s a grouping near the  _ Akademiya _ \--kind of like a long chain of bright stars; big group of them at one end. What do you think?”

“Hmm, maybe a necklace? I’ll be over the limb in a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Clover said, and lazily set  _ Kingfisher _ into a slow roll on its long axis, watching the sky roll past as he waited.

\--

The negotiations went perfectly. The miners had been wary of the Atlas negotiators, as expected, and had treated Marrow and Vine with suspicion. But they seemed more at ease with Ruby, Yang, and Jaune present. Several of the miners had relatives who had either been lost on Beacon station, or who had fled from Vale as refugees. Ruby had had the foresight to mention their origins during the introduction, and that opportunity for a connection had set the tone for the rest of the meeting. The miners had been relieved to hear that General Ironwood had authorized the negotiators to offer any of the surplus equipment on board the  _ Akademiya _ , including the air pumps and airlock seals that were being rotated out of service. Atlas refitted the pumps and seals on its ships frequently, whenever Dr. Polendina’s research team made an incremental improvement. It was expensive to refit ships so frequently, but the Atlas brass saw it as a worthwhile expense to keep ships and soldiers safe. Here, however, it meant that there was equipment on hand that might be of use to the miners. It wasn’t enough to secure all of the mines on the moon--but it was more than the Schnee Corporation was offering, and some of the mine engineers thought they might be able to reverse-engineer the updated technology and upgrade some of the existing equipment. The negotiators had also promised to provide Dr. Polendina with the communications frequency and credentials necessary to reach the miners and check on the equipment’s performance. And in return, the miners had agreed to resume exports of materials, and to allow Schnee Corporation representatives to return to the system. Jacques Schnee would be pissed, but the mines were going to resume operations, the company would continue to earn profits from the resources being shipped out of the system, and the Fleet had served its purpose--and nobody had gotten hurt.

“Good job, everyone,” Clover said, as the shuttle pulled away from the colony, and  _ Kingfisher, Harbinger,  _ and  _ Omen _ fell into formation around the shuttle. “Ice cream’s on me when we get home.”

“There’s  _ ice cream? _ ” Ruby cried into the shuttle’s comm.

Clover laughed. “I have a special relationship with the chef,” he replied. 

“ _ Magnhild _ checking in, all clear behind the planet,” Nora said. Clover glanced over, and saw the small blue dot labeled  _ Magnhild _ appear from behind the planet’s limb. “I hear there’s ice cream, and I want a whole bucket.”

“ _ Stormflower  _ checking in. I’ll have green tea ice cream if it’s available,” Ren said, as his ship’s marker appeared on the display.

“ _ Sequoia  _ here too,” Elm said, as her ship joined the other two. “Captain, you didn’t say there’d be ice cream in the mission briefing.”

“Wanted it to be a surprise, Elm,” Clover replied. “But I said I had a special relationship with the chef, not that we have a secret ice cream parlour in the back. You’ll have whatever’s available.”

“I just like ice cream!” Ruby volunteered eagerly. 

Clover smiled. He was about to ask Harriet and Weiss how the journey ahead looked, when Penny’s voice chimed in urgently.

“Captain Ebi, sir! My radar indicates new signatures appearing behind you, approaching at high speed!”

Clover swore, and with a twist of his body, flipped  _ Kingfisher _ around. They were still far enough away from  _ Akademiya _ that if Penny was just now warning them, whatever had appeared was considerably closer than when Penny had seen them. They had lost precious seconds by letting their guard down.

Sure enough, a swarm of new dots appeared on his display, departing from the moon. As he watched, several more peeled out from behind the moon.

“Shuttle, get back to the ship as fast as possible!” Clover ordered. He pushed his feet back, and  _ Kingfisher _ ’s engines roared to life. As he shot toward the threat, he saw to his left that  _ Harbinger _ and  _ Omen _ were also rocketing away from the shuttle. “ _ Rapidity _ and  _ Myrtenaster _ , can you fall in and escort the shuttle?” Clover asked. “The rest of us will hold them off.”

“Yes, sir!” Harriet confirmed from  _ Rapidity _ . A bright yellow streak near the edge of his vision told him that Harriet had engaged her Dust drive to close the distance quickly. Weiss would be close behind.

As he approached the oncoming swarm, Clover was now able to see the ships themselves, rather than mere dots on his display. These were Grimm ships--he could see Teryx and Sabyr fighters, several Beowolves, and the rest of the swarm appeared to be Ravager _ s _ \--all Grimm. How had this many Grimm evaded detection? And why was this attack so coordinated? Grimm rarely attacked in a coordinated fashion; they lacked the communication and intelligence for that. 

Clover enabled the weapons and targeting systems, and flexed his fingers. Either way, no matter how they had gotten the drop on them, they would go no further. Clover closed his hands and opened fire as  _ Kingfisher _ dove into the swarm, orange explosions blooming around him as he nimbly rotated from one target to the next, rolling away from the return fire coming from the Sabyrs. Ahead, a group of Ravagers had clumped together, and the baleful red orbs in their centres began to glow, as their weapons prepared to fire. Clover crouched, and several flaps opened and thrusters fired as  _ Kingfisher _ abruptly slowed and changed direction. He flexed, feeling  _ Kingfisher _ ’s sharp steel spines fold outwards from her metal skin, and dove in. A column of red plasma burst from the combined orbs of the Ravagers, and Clover rolled away from its deadly path as he continued his dive, his weapons firing hot pellets of plasma as he approached. 

_ Kingfisher  _ tore through the Ravagers, and he heard the shrill scream of rending metal as  _ Kingfisher _ ’s spines ripped through the small enemy ships--a jarring contrast with the usual quiet determination of a battle. Glancing behind him, he saw small explosions burst from the wreckage as the Dust power sources fueling the small Grimm overloaded. He spread his arms, and  _ Kingfisher _ ’s outriggers extended, the small thrusters giving short bursts as he spun back to face the swarm.

_Harbinger_ and _Omen_ were tearing through the far side of the attacking swarm, cutting the Grimm attackers to pieces. As he watched, he saw that they moved with incredible speed, and moreover changed direction impossibly quickly. How were they expending that much energy without depleting their fuel sources? _Harbinger_ dispatched a Sabyr with a massive blast to its command module, and _Omen_ carved the propulsion booms from a Teryx with a sweep of an energy beam. Two more Teryx fighters however were bearing down on _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ , undetected as the two focused on a cloud of Ravagers before them. Fortunately, none of the Grimm had yet broken through to follow the shuttle, and Elm, Nora, and Ren would arrive soon.

“ _ Harbinger, Omen,  _ you’ve got two on your tail,” Clover warned. “I’ll try to peel them off.” He folded the wings back and opened the throttle, opening fire whenever a Ravager wandered into his sights. As he approached, he could suddenly see why Qrow and Raven were able to execute such severe maneuvers that should have been draining their power sources. As  _ Harbinger _ banked out of an attack run, its outriggers unfurled, Clover saw what appeared to be a shimmering curtain of feathers stretched between the ship’s body and the outstretched limbs. 

Solar panels.  _ Harbinger _ and  _ Omen _ were outfitted with sheets of tiny solar panels, linked together like feathers, and whenever one of them pulled around for another attack, they unfurled, capturing energy from the system’s star, and storing it for the next maneuver. As he looked closer, dodging and weaving around Ravagers on his plummeting dive toward the pursuing fighters, he saw that the tiny panels covered every inch of the two ships’ surfaces. That was what lent them their distinctive black shimmer--both the texture of the panels, and the dark coloration that maximized how much light could be absorbed.

That was devious. No wonder they had beat the pants off all the other competitors when they were in school. For now, though, he was glad it was working in their favor-- _ Harbinger _ and  _ Omen  _ truly were unmatched when it came to maneuverability and sheer lethality. The ships were perfectly-matched to their pilots, and as Clover came to their aid, he was witnessing a display of skill that put all of his Ace-Ops to shame. 

Clover released a heavy steel hook as he shot past the sleek surface of the Teryx, keeping his feet tensed for the inevitable jolt when the hook caught. A moment later, it did, and he slammed open the throttle, straining against the jerking tether to stabilize  _ Kingfisher _ . When he felt the craft begin to settle, he released the hook, flipping over to see what the effect had been on the enemy fighter. The Teryx had been pulled off its course, and sent into a wild, chaotic tumble by his efforts. Any stabilization it attempted through its thrusters only increased the chaos of the tumble. 

_ Got you now _ , Clover thought, and opened fire as he banked back around. The superheated plasma rounds bit into the Teryx’s hull, and it bloomed in a golden sphere as the Grimm’s defenses finally gave way.  _ Harbinger _ and the remaining Teryx were locked in a tight dogfight, weaving around each other, streams of plasma fire spreading out into space as they each attempted to get a lock on each other.  _ Omen _ was busy mopping up the last of the Beowolves. Off in the distance, arcs of violet electricity and rivers of green plasma pellets lit up the last of the Ravagers as  _ Magnhild _ and  _ Stormflower  _ joined the battle. 

“Captain, did you leave any for me?” asked Elm. 

“Can you get a lock on the Teryx pursuing  _ Harbinger _ ?” Clover asked.

“Sure thing, Captain!” she replied. “ _ Harbinger _ , if you give me some space, I’ll toast that thing for you!”

“Negative,  _ Sequoia _ ,” came Qrow’s reply. “This one’s mine.” To prove the point,  _ Harbinger _ twisted mid-turn, and appeared to fold  _ through _ itself, exposing an enormous, gleaming, razor-sharp edge along the length of the hull. The engines flared, and  _ Harbinger _ plunged straight through the broadside of the Teryx, scattering debris in its wake. 

“Nice trick,  _ Harbinger _ ,” Elm commented.

“Like I said,” Qrow replied. “That one was mine.”

Clover pulled up and away from the field of debris spreading throughout the space in which they’d fought, surveying the state of affairs. Ren and Nora had thoroughly dispatched the remaining Grimm on the far end of the fight, and looking back towards the  _ Akademiya _ , he could see that the shuttle had made good time, along with  _ Myrtenaster _ and  _ Rapidity _ as escorts. He breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a massive surprise attack--but they had held it off, and nobody had gotten hurt.

He was about to commend everyone and order the return to the  _ Akademiya _ , when an enormous red burst of plasma blossomed across the red Aura protecting  _ Harbinger _ . It was followed by a hail of red plasma, as half a dozen Megoliath-class Grimm gunships de-cloaked, escorting a single steel-grey ship.

“We’ve got more company!” Clover yelled, pulling  _ Kingfisher _ around and diving back towards  _ Harbinger  _ and  _ Omen _ . Grimm with cloaking devices? That really made no sense. That was tech Atlas had only developed in recent years. But then… that silver ship in the midst of the Megoliath gunships was no Grimm craft. It was a nasty-looking thing, a sleek pincer-shaped craft, open at the front, with a command pod in the center. Weapons mounted alongside two dangerous-looking lances at either side of the forward opening opened fire, training a steady stream of hot plasma on  _ Harbinger _ as the new attackers bore down on  _ Harbinger _ and  _ Omen _ . The shots bloomed in splashes of red against  _ Harbinger’s  _ Aura as  _ Harbinger  _ fought to gain better positioning.  _ Omen _ hurtled toward the group, but the Megoliaths opened fire as they took up station around  _ Harbinger _ and the silver craft, forcing her to peel away for a more cautious approach. 

“Concentrate fire on the gunships!” Clover ordered. “We need to peel that craft away from  _ Harbinger _ !” Clover opened a line to  _ Akademiya _ . “Penny, can you get a firing solution on these Megoliaths?” he asked, as he opened fire, his shots joining the hail of fire the gunships were now taking from the others. 

Several seconds later, Penny responded. “Negative, Captain Ebi,  _ Harbinger _ is too close! I’ll keep watching though, and as soon as there’s an opening, I’ll see what I can do!”

“Keep your distance,” Clover told the other pilots. “ _ Harbinger _ , can you get out of there?”

“I’m trying my best,” Qrow replied through gritted teeth, as  _ Harbinger _ and the newcomer wove around each other. “Ah, fuck!” he swore, as white light bloomed on Harbinger’s hull, and  _ Harbinger _ ’s weapons went silent. “He took out my guns! I’m gonna see if I can lose him in the rings!”

Harbinger’s engines blasted to life with twin incandescent flashes, and the ship rocketed past the attacker, toward the Megoliaths that had formed a perimeter around the dogfight. The gunships trained their fire on  _ Harbinger _ as it approached, but Qrow deftly weaved and rolled around the shots, and then he was out--with the silver craft hot on his tail. 

“Keep on the Megoliaths; I’ll go help  _ Harbinger _ !” Clover ordered the others. 

“Like hell you are, he’s my brother!” Raven objected.

“I know your ship’s stats,” Clover replied. “You’re fast, but I’m faster. Stay here and help the others, that’s an order!”

As he folded back the thruster arms and pushed the engines to their maximum thrust, he almost didn’t hear Raven muttering about following her lead over the roar of  _ Kingfisher _ ’s engines. A few moments later, a series of rapid green flashes from behind told him that Penny had found a firing solution, and the Megoliaths were likely now nothing more than rapidly-expanding clouds of superheated dust. That left the silver craft.

Qrow was leading the attacker toward the giant planet’s rings, a broad yet infinitesimally-thin expanse of bright white ice.  _ Harbinger _ was fast, but the attacker was keeping pace. Clover was gaining on them, though. With all of the ship’s power diverted to propulsion,  _ Kingfisher _ could reach incredible speeds. It would deplete his fuel cells--but that was a problem for later. Right now, he had a pilot to save. And he wanted to know who this mystery craft was. 

That question was soon answered as he came closer. Streaks of metallic purple adorned the flanks of the silver craft, just barely obscuring the symbol of the Atlas Fleet.

Tyrian Callows.

Of course.

The murderous bastard who had blown up a transport ship after stealing one of Atlas’s experimental fighters, and then vanished without a trace. He must have somehow defected to the Grimm, though Clover could not fathom why, or even how--the Grimm were not known for communicating with citizens of the Federatsiya, even former ones. 

Clover didn’t know why Tyrian Callows would be here now, or why he would be showing such an interest in Qrow Branwen. But he did know that Tyrian would not escape this fight. Not this time. 

_ Harbinger _ dove into the rings in a spray of icy particles, and Callows followed soon after. The two ships weaved above and below the plane of the rings several times, carving increasingly jagged holes in the field of ice crystals orbiting the planet. 

“I’ll be there in a few seconds,” Clover said to Qrow, mentally running through the sequence of moves he would need to make in order to pull this off.

“Got it,” Qrow replied.

The next time that  _ Harbinger _ surfaced above the plane of the rings, it rolled away sharply with a burst of the thrusters, and slipped through a narrow gap in the rings, folding in the outriggers and maneuvering arms to maintain a low profile. Tyrian Callows’s ship plowed through the ring a moment later, and paused above the rings, as Tyrian must have been looking for a sign of where  _ Harbinger _ had gone.

That was all the hesitation Clover needed.  _ Kingfisher _ bore down on Callows from above with predatory speed. Clover flung his arms wide, opening every propulsion flap and thruster to slow the approach, and flexed his muscles, extending the metallic spines that lined  _ Kingfisher _ ’s hull. Callows’s unsuspecting ship raced toward Clover, and he braced for the impact.

_ Kingfisher  _ slammed into the silver pincer-shaped craft with bone-shattering ferocity and the agonizing scream of tortured metal, as the spines dug into Callows’s craft. Clover grunted through the pain of the impact and forced his arms in tight, closing  _ Kingfisher _ ’s outrigger arms around Callow’s ship, locking it in place as their combined momentum took them barreling away from the rings. 

Callow’s ship shifted beneath  _ Kingfisher _ ’s embrace, however, and then all of a sudden it was no longer beneath him. Callows’s ship transformed, elongating into an almost serpent-like form, that rolled past  _ Kingfisher _ ’s flank, and then Tyrian was above him. Clover writhed in his cradle, trying to jam the outriggers upward in a way that would keep Tyrian from escaping, but with an ear-splitting crunch that flooded his senses with a brief wave of pain,  _ Kingfisher _ ’s systems went dark, and Clover was blind. 

He tore his head and arms out of the cradle, and whipped his head around to see what happened. Through the cockpit glass, he could see that Tyrian’s ship had buried a long, steel spike directly into  _ Kingfisher _ ’s chassis. He must have hit the system core. That was bad. That was very bad. But what would be worse would be for Tyrian to get away. Clover’s hand shot to his hip, and drew his sidearm. He held it up to the cockpit glass, and took careful aim. Tyrian Callows’s cockpit hung directly overhead. Through the two panes of glass, he could see a man with long brown hair watching him, apparently laughing with glee. Tyrian froze, however, when he saw the gun. His eyes went wide--so wide that even at this distance, through both panes of cockpit glass, Clover could see the whites.

Clover pulled the trigger.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover deals with the aftermath of his fight with Tyrian, and the danger he is now in.

Space battles are not fought with handguns and bullets. This is because in space, there is very little to slow down a bullet, and handguns are inelegant, inaccurate weapons. Over the distances involved with space battles, and the speeds at which the spacecraft move, a shot is more likely to miss than to hit its target, even in the hands of the most expert marksman. And a bullet that misses will continue traveling forever, until it hits something else--potentially a civilian ship in a distant system. So the navies of the Remnant had long ago abandoned primitive projectiles like bullets when arming spacecraft, opting instead for weapons based on plasma, energy, and Dust--with the plasma rounds that  _ Kingfisher _ fired, for example, over time the shot would diffuse outward, until it was nothing more than a rapidly-travelling cloud of molecules. This would take some time, of course--there was no risk of his shots fading away before hitting their targets. But by the time it reached another planetary system, the shot would have long ago lost its destructive power.

This meant that spacecraft defenses really only needed to defend against attacks with those more modern weapons. This was the basis of the Aura defense system--a Dust-powered shield that could absorb and deflect almost all of the destructive energy of the shots fired by the ships found in the Remnant. Up to a point, of course--taking a shot costs energy, and energy is never free. Eventually, a ship’s Aura would be unable to protect it any longer, and the ship would begin taking damage. This was how Qrow’s ship had lost its weapons system. 

That also meant, however, that the glass from which cockpits were made did not need to be bulletproof. Soldiers and pilots were outfitted with handguns, but only for confrontations on planetary surfaces and in close quarters. There was no danger that a cockpit might come in contact with a bullet.

Tyrian Callows knew this. That was why his glee had shifted to horror when he realized what Clover was about to do.

Clover pulled the trigger, and the cockpit glass exploded outward, followed immediately thereafter by the glass of Tyrian’s cockpit, and then a shower of blood as the bullet connected. Clover pulled the trigger again, and then a third time, until he was satisfied there would be no escape for Tyrian Callows. 

And then Clover dove for his cradle, feeling immediate relief as the fabric molded itself around his skin, easing the feeling that his eyes were about to pop out of his head from the sudden lack of air pressure. He feverishly reached beneath the cradle for the valve controlling the emergency oxygen supply. His grasping fingers finally found the gear, and he frantically spun it, his fingers shaking as they fumbled with it. There was a small hiss as oxygen began flowing into the cradle, and Clover took a big gasping breath of relief. 

Once he had caught his breath, he risked a look through the remains of the cockpit, to try to determine where he was, and where he was going.

The clouds of the gas giant loomed large above him, their bright yellow glow filling the cockpit with an eerie light. As he watched in between gulps of oxygen from the cradle, they appeared to be getting closer.

Oh no.

The tussle with Tyrian must have bled off too much of their momentum, and  _ Kingfisher _ was no longer in orbit, but rather on a slow trajectory into the planet. Clover tried to restart the ship’s central system core, but to no avail. There was no way to get in contact with the others. And with all the ship’s systems offline, it would appear merely as wreckage to Penny’s scanners. 

Clover sighed. That was it, then. He glanced back up at the clouds, trying to guess how long it would take to fall into the planet. It seemed like while he was getting closer, the planet was not approaching at any great speed. It looked like he would have some time here to think things over.

\--

Space is not cold. That wasn’t really something they told you at the academy; the drill sergeants were always using phrases like “the cold of space” or “the freezing black depths that will kill you if you give them the chance.” All the vids Clover had seen when he was younger suggested that exposure to the vacuum of space could freeze a person solid in minutes, or even seconds. 

Clover had been adrift for perhaps twenty minutes now, however, and did not feel cold. The reality is that without air or water or some other medium to carry the heat away, your body only lost heat as fast as it could be radiated away, like a baked potato gently cooling on a plate. Clover missed baked potatoes, even the mediocre ones served on the  _ Akademiya _ . There was a restaurant back at Atlas Station that served much better baked potatoes, all rich and creamy, with deliciously-cooked skins. And the nearby Mantle Station had even better potatoes. Clover hadn’t thought too much about potatoes before now, but now that he would never have them again, he felt great regret that he had not spent more time eating the potatoes of Atlas and Mantle Stations. 

Clover estimated he probably had another hour or so of emergency oxygen remaining. The last time he had checked, the cloud tops had appeared so close that it had been hard to believe that he was not already in the gas giant’s atmosphere. He decided he had better check again.

When he pulled his head out of the cradle, however, and looked through the gaping, jagged hole that had been the cockpit, he saw thin streamers of gas playing over the edges of broken glass. As he watched, he felt he was growing warmer. Ah. That was it, then. Clover returned to the cradle, and took deep breaths. If he had entered the atmosphere, there wasn’t much time left. No sense in rationing the oxygen; he might as well die with lungs full of oxygen. He nestled in, curled up in the soft embrace of the ship’s cradle, listening to the rattles and clanks of the ship as the atmosphere increasingly fought against the ship’s momentum. 

After a minute or two, Clover was sweating. A quick glance upward told him that a plasma cone had formed around  _ Kingfisher _ , as the doomed craft tore through the tenuous upper atmosphere of the planet, displacing several kilometers of superheated gas every second. A loud, jarring  _ clang _ shook the ship, and Clover wondered what had broken off. An outrigger arm, perhaps.

After another minute or so, however, Clover had not gotten any warmer, and the ship’s rattling had grown louder, but not more violent. Clover peeked out, and saw that the plasma cone had disappeared. That was odd. As he watched, his lungs screaming at him to return to the cradle, it almost looked like the cloud tops were receding. That made no sense either; the drag from the atmosphere should have guaranteed a full descent into the depths of the planet. 

Unless….

Clover took in another gulp of oxygen from the cradle, and risked hauling himself up to the lip of the cockpit. He glanced out over the edge. There, nestled against  _ Kingfisher _ , two blindingly white plumes trailing away behind it, was  _ Harbinger _ . 

Qrow.

Qrow had come back for him, had found his wrecked ship descending towards the clouds. Qrow had had no way of knowing if Clover was still alive, and had come anyway. Clover’s heart leapt into his throat, and he dived back down into the cradle. Now he did need to worry about oxygen. He needed to keep breathing, and he needed to not use up all of his supply before they got back to the  _ Akademiya _ . 

Could  _ Harbinger _ really pull them out of the planet’s gravity well, let alone the atmosphere?  _ Harbinger _ was an impressive ship, but that was a lot of thrust….

Eventually, however, they did pull free of the atmosphere, and the tendrils of gas whipping around the jagged glass edges of the cockpit were gone. Moments later, there was a second clang, and then a third. Clover risked another peek.  _ Magnhild _ and  _ Sequoia  _ had joined  _ Harbinger _ on  _ Kingfisher _ ’s hull, and had opened their own throttles. As he watched in amazement,  _ Omen _ rolled past overhead. Through that ship’s cockpit glass, he could see Raven, peering into his own shattered cockpit. Clover waved to her. She appeared to say something, and flashed Clover a thumb’s up, and then  _ Omen _ was gone. Clover ducked back down into the cradle, relishing the cool flow of oxygen, and the relief from the pressure difference. The difference in pressure between the inside of a human body and the vacuum of space was not enough to literally cause eyeballs to explode, but it could certainly feel like it. Inside the cradle, Clover took slow, shallow gulps of oxygen, trying to avoid breathing it in too quickly. He focused on the simple fact that he was being carried home.  _ Kingfisher _ ’s cradle could keep him alive for now, and the three ships pushing his own would ensure he got home before things got too dire.

\--

Clover had begun to shiver when  _ Harbinger _ nudged his ship the last several hundred meters into one of  _ Akademiya _ ’s launch bays. Mechanical arms automatically extended outward to the ship, and guided it down to the hangar floor. Clover pulled his head from the cradle, and took large, gulping breaths, relishing the feeling of the ship’s air--at a normal air pressure, and at the normal mix of nitrogen, oxygen, and water. He sat in the ship’s cockpit for several minutes, simply enjoying the heady taste of the air--the slight scent of body odour, the sharp tang of machine oil. Clover even thought he could detect a hint of potatoes.

As the other ships docked with  _ Akademiya _ , their pilots clambered out and rushed over to  _ Kingfisher _ . Elm threw the others aside, climbed up  _ Kingfisher’s  _ hull, and extended a hand to Clover.

“Clover--Captain, I mean--thank the gods. Do you need help getting down?” she asked.

Clover chuckled. “I think we can dispense with formalities for the moment. Yes, thank you,” he replied, taking her hand, and letting her help down from the ship. He had not been injured, but he found his muscles were still shaky from the oxygen deprivation, the cold, and of course, the fear. 

When he had reached the hangar floor, Elm wrapped him in a tight hug. Before he had a chance to respond, the other Ace-Ops had joined in as well. So much for protocol. Although he had just told Elm to dispense with formalities. He relaxed, and allowed himself to melt into the hug. He had almost not returned home today. It was good to know his team cared, and it was good for them to be able to express it. It was only through incredibly good luck that he had survived at all. 

After a few moments, he opened his eyes, and looked up out of the hug as the others began to loosen their grip on him. The Beacon team was milling around nearby, with the younger pilots excitedly reliving the drama of the battle. And Qrow Branwen stood awkwardly at the edge, between the Beacon team and the Ace-Ops, one hand playing nervously through his tufts of black hair. 

Clover pushed himself free of his team, walked over to Qrow, and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Clover said into Qrow’s shoulder. “You saved my life today, Qrow. Thank you for bringing me home.”

“Oh, uh, it was nothing,” Qrow stammered, letting his arms fall awkwardly around Clover’s black. “You, uh--you saved me with Tyrian. It would have been wrong not to try to rescue you too.”

“Either way, I appreciate it,” Clover said, locking eyes with Qrow’s. He couldn’t quite make out the emotion behind those red irises--but right now, all he knew was that he was only here because of Qrow, and for that he was grateful. Although-- “Qrow,” he said, “you knew it was Tyrian too?”

Qrow nodded. “I recognized the ship. We’ve crossed paths before.”

“We should talk about that later, then. I think General Ironwood will want to know what happened,” Clover said quietly. Then, more loudly, he said to the rest of the group, “Okay, everyone, enough hanging out here. Launch bays aren’t meant for socializing. I distinctly recall promising ice cream, and I think we’ve all earned it!”

Cheers erupted from the Atlas and Beacon pilots, and Clover turned and began walking toward the mess hall. He gave a small shiver as he walked, as his body reminded him of how cold it had been. Perhaps he would ask for the chef for hot cocoa instead of ice cream. He turned to Qrow as he walked. “You coming?” he asked. “Like I said--it’s on me.”

Qrow considered for a moment, and smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years have passed, and Qrow and Clover have become close friends. They're relaxing on their break, and then all hell breaks loose...

_Clover stepped back to admire the results in the mirror. He looked sharp. Except…he reached up and pushed back an errant curl of brown hair that was threatening to droop over his forehead. There. Sharp._

_“Uh, sir?” Marrow had gently pushed open the door to Clover’s quarter, his head poking through nervously._

_“Is it time?” Clover asked._

_“Yes, sir. We’re ready for you,” Marrow replied._

_“Alright,” Clover sighed. He took a deep breath, bounced on his toes, and slipped on his fingerless gloves. The tight fit felt secure, like a soft handhold to guide him through the day. He grabbed his pack, and joined Marrow in the hallway. “Let’s do this.”_

~

Clover studied his cards. His hand wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t great, either. He wasn’t entirely sure how to play this. Fold now, and hope for a better hand? Or….Clover turned his head and gazed out the viewport of the break room. The familiar constellations of Atlas Station hung against the black velvet beyond the glass. He let his eyes wander along the familiar patterns as he debated what to do next.

Raven ambled into the break room, empty mug in hand. She glanced over Qrow’s shoulder as she passed, and raised an eyebrow.

“Planning to lose again, brother?” she asked Qrow with a smirk.

Qrow sighed, and played a card. “We’ve been over this, Rae, if you tell Clover how bad my hand is, of course he’ll win every time.”

Raven shrugged, and continued over to the kettle. “Or maybe you’re just bad at cards,” she offered.

Qrow gave Clover a helpless look. Clover tried to suppress a laugh. The poor man’s sister was merciless. The challenge, though, was that Qrow was sly, and his sister was as likely to cross her brother’s opponent as she was to betray her brother. Clover had lost more than a few games over the last two years by thinking she had given him valuable information. It was never possible to know if they were giving each other a hard time, or merely pretending to. Clover played a card that he felt carried only a modest risk, to see if he could suss out what Qrow had going for him.

Qrow’s next play proved that he really did have a terrible hand. Or maybe he was just bad at cards. Clover won the game easily. Qrow threw down the last of his cards with a sigh of resignation, as Raven chortled quietly to herself by the kettle. 

“Better luck next time,” Clover said. “I believe in you. You’ll get there.”

Qrow smirked at him. “Maybe. Cards don’t seem to agree with me, at least not when you’re involved. But you know,” he said, checking the time, “we’ve got a few hours before our next shift. I happen to know something else we can do where I am going to come out on top.”

“Oh?” Clover asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” Qrow said. “There are some new scenarios in the simulators. And I may not have great luck when we play cards, but I can beat both of you any day behind the controls of a ship.”

Clover met Raven’s eyes across the room, exchanging disbelieving looks. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll bite. You’re on. Raven?”

Raven shook her head. “I’m enjoying my tea,” she said, taking a loud sip for effect. “You two go on ahead; I’ll catch up with you later. I want to spend the rest of my break working on those new modifications to my ship.”

“How are those coming?” Clover asked. Raven was experimenting with wiring the Dust core of _Omen_ to a small, stripped-down Folding Device--the crucial piece of technology that allowed the Federatsiya to exist, which folded the fabric of the universe in on itself so the ship carrying the device could jump instantaneously to a distant location. Raven argued that there was no reason that location had to be particularly distant, and with some tinkering, it should be possible to equip small craft like their fighters with devices that would permit short hops--say, a few hundred meters. If she could get it to work reliably, that would be a major tactical advantage.

“I’m still working out a few kinks,” she replied. “I can do the short hops, no problem, and I’m getting pretty fast at spooling it up. But if I do too many, it starts to overheat, and things start to fritz. Jumps don’t end up where they were supposed to. I’m determined to find out why.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a break to me,” Clover said, as he slid the cards back into their sleeve. “Sure you can’t spare an hour to join us?”

Raven again shook her head. “This tea is my break,” she said. “I’m sure.”

“Your loss, Rae,” Qrow said, rising from his seat and pushing in the chair. “Or, it would be, if you came with!”

Clover laughed, and followed his friend out of the break room. Since that first battle two years ago, he and Qrow had grown close. He and Raven were close as well, of course, but he and Qrow had an unusually easy rapport that he had not found with anyone else. He found that when he was relaxing with Qrow, he laughed easily, and always came away with a light feeling in his heart. And when they were working together, their styles meshed well. Sometimes he wondered if Raven resented that Qrow chose to pair up with Clover more often than with her, but he knew that while she and Qrow shared a siblings’ bond, their relationship had not always been easy. Truth be told, she was probably glad for time away from Qrow.

“So,” Clover said, clapping Qrow on the shoulder as they entered the hall. “You really think you can beat me in this training scenario?”

“Well,” Qrow replied, “I did rescue you. Pulled you out of the clouds, if I remember correctly.”

Clover chuckled, and shoved his thumbs into his pockets as they walked. “Only because I saved you first,” he chided Qrow.

Qrow waved it off. “I had that guy,” he said. “You were just trying to impress me. Or Raven.”

“Raven?” Clover asked, surprised.

“Oh, I’ve seen you two exchange looks,” Qrow said. “Don’t worry, I won’t judge you for it. She is my twin, after all.”

Clover laughed. “I like Raven well enough,” he said, as they turned a corner, navigating their way through the maze of hallways that was the military level of Atlas Station. “But she’s not really my type,” he continued. “It’s just that she knows you well enough that we can laugh at you together.”

Qrow elbowed him in the ribs, and Clover laughed. “Alright, plant boy,” Qrow said. “What is your type, then? We’ve known each other what, two years? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go on a date that whole time. You spend all your free time with me.”

“Well, you haven’t gone on dates either,” Clover pointed out.

“That’s because I’m a gruff, unlikeable old man,” Qrow said. Qrow was only a year older than Clover--but he was about to turn 40, and had not let Clover forget it the past few weeks. Raven had threatened to take away the next 40 if he didn’t stop reminding her as well, so Clover had borne the brunt of it. “Anyway, no deflecting,” he continued. “Why no dates?”

“I don’t know,” Clover said, thoughtfully. He truly didn’t. “I guess I just haven’t met someone who caught my eye in that way. And I’ve been happy enough with what I have,” he said, glancing over at Qrow with a wink. 

Qrow looked thoughtful for a moment, and seemed to be about to respond. Before he could, however, a deep rumble shuddered sharply through the station.

“What was that?” Qrow asked, his eyes suddenly taking on a shadowed, hunted look. 

“I don’t know; maybe a kitchen explosion?” Clover suggested. Such things happened sometimes on a station this large. Still, anything that could cause the entire station to shake was bad.

Qrow and Clover turned at the sound of running footsteps behind them. Raven rounded the corner in a mad sprint, banking sharply to avoid losing speed. Clover noticed in the fraction of a second before she reached them that she had a dark tea-stain on the thighs of her red trousers.

“Raven?” Qrow said in surprise, as she tore past them. Clover instinctively broke into a run himself, following her, and Qrow did the same. When you spent enough time in space, you learned that if someone was running like their life depended on it, it probably did, and you should run in the same direction too. 

“Raven, what’s going on?” Clover shouted ahead to her, as they ran. “Where are we going?”

Raven didn’t turn or slow down, her large mass of feather black hair streaming behind her as her feet pounded on the textured metal floor of the hallway. “Ships!” She gasped breathlessly. “Station....attack!”

Memories of the news from Beacon Station flooded back to Clover--how the attack had seemingly come out of nowhere, how little time there had been for anyone to reach transports. Qrow, Raven, and the kids had escaped only because Beacon Academy was housed relatively near the shipyard, and they had had both the good sense to get off the station, and a sufficiently strong sense of duty that every single one of them had hopped in a fighter and fought ferociously until the end. One of the kids’ teammates, Pyrrah Nikos, had not survived the fight, pushing her considerable combat prowess closer and closer to the limit in an effort to get close enough to the main attack ship to deal some damage, and give Beacon a chance. 

Moments later, alarms began to blare, warning citizens to make their way to the many shelters Atlas had. If anything were to happen to the station, the shelters were equipped with their own life support and communications systems. They could not sustain a population, but they could buy time. 

If Atlas Station was under attack...what must Qrow and Raven be going through now? Clover thought of the dark look that had suddenly flooded Qrow’s eyes, and the determined yet wild anger with which Raven had rounded that corner. The fear, grief, and chaos they had endured last time...was that what was about to happen here? How much worse would it be for them the second time? 

Those thoughts clattered anxiously through Clover’s brain as they ran, his heart pounding in his ears. He recognized now where Raven was going; she was heading for the launch bays where their ships were docked. As they neared the launch bay, more and more people joined them, bursting from closed doors and side passages--some were pilots, even a few whom Clover recognized, while others were engineers, technicians, or simply civilians trying to get to safety. It was all Clover could do to avoid running into someone or getting himself injured. 

Finally, they burst into the launch bay. The large space was already bustling with activity, as technicians hurriedly fueled ships, reloaded weapons systems, and prepared fighters for takeoff. Their own ships sat waiting not far away. Cold vapor gently fell away from the fuel ports--someone had already fueled their fighters. Clover would have to remember to pass a commendation on to the launch crew for that foresight. 

General Ironwood’s voice chimed in Clover’s earpiece as he jogged over to _Kingfisher_.

“Clover. I need you in your ship ASAP,” Ironwood said, his words rapid, tense.

“I’m already at the launch bay, sir, about to get in,” Clover responded. “I’m here with Qrow and Raven. Looks like our ships are already fueled. What’s going on, sir?”

“Salem,” Ironwood responded. “She’s here.”

An icy chill flooded through Clover’s veins. After the fight with Tyrian Callows, Qrow and Raven had shared all they knew about him. Callows had had a large role in the attack on Beacon--that was why Qrow had recognized him. He had somehow gained access to the Beacon communications system, and had broadcast a gleefully psychotic message to the Beacon fighters as he was gunning them down from his own ship. In the aftermath, once they had made it to safety, Qrow, Raven, and the kids had done what they could to dig into Callows’s past. It was never clear if he had been the leader or mastermind of the attack--but they had suspected not. In their digging, they had found references to the name “Salem”--whether a person, group, or place wasn’t clear. Raven had gone off on her own to follow some leads, while Qrow and the kids had gone to Chairman Ozpin, Qrow’s former mentor. Ozpin had told them that a very long time ago, a woman named Salem had left the Federatsiya, after being denied permission to research ways to modify human bodies and cheat or even reverse death. She had gone off in search of distant worlds where the clues to such technology might be found, vowing to return when she found it and claim the worlds of the Federatsiya for herself. 

That story didn’t really make sense to Clover; he didn’t understand Salem’s supposed motivations. But Raven had turned up more and more mentions of Salem the further she went, and rumors that Salem had been amassing a fleet. Some of the rumors linked Salem to the Grimm. And when Tyrian Callows and his fleet had attacked Beacon, that fleet had been filled with Grimm ships. And of course, the battle at SCMS-372 c had seen Tyrian escorted by Grimm ships. Whatever the true story behind this Salem person, she was clearly dangerous, and seemed now to have come for Atlas and Mantle--the crown jewels of the Federatsiya. If Atlas fell, the rest of the Remnant would be Salem’s for the taking.

“What’s the plan, sir?” Clover asked, as he hauled himself into Kingfisher’s cockpit. The repairs had been flawless; not a single scratch or scuff betrayed the crippling beating the ship had suffered in the battle with Tyrian. 

“The plan is we throw everything we’ve got at her and win,” Ironwood replied grimly. “It’s going to take all the firepower we have. We’ve sent runners to the Haven and Vacuo quadrants to ask for reinforcements, but it will be hours at minimum before anyone could arrive. We’re alone, for now. Get out there, rendezvous with the rest of the team if you think it’ll help, but for gods’ sakes, keep your weapons hot and stay out of the firing solutions.”

“Yes, sir,” Clover replied. “Over and out.” He dropped into the cradle, pushing his hands into the control slots, knocking back the propulsion controls at his feet, and jamming his face into the sensory nest in front of him. His view had barely finished populating with data before he had powered up the engines and pushed _Kingfisher_ ’s nose into the launch tube. To his right, _Omen_ and _Harbinger_ were also entering the launch tubes. Out beyond the walls of Atlas Station, Clover could see the _Akademiya_ , as well as hundreds of smaller Atlesian craft, weaving and darting as they engaged the enemy. Hundreds of unidentified enemy craft were visible as well. Thin, translucent lines stretched from the _Akademiya_ to several of the enemy ships, indicating Penny’s firing solutions. As _Kingfisher_ rocketed through the launch tube, the small dots and thin lines moved noticeably in space--the fight had to be uncomfortably close to the station. He remembered Ironwood’s warning. He really would have to be careful to avoid the firing solutions. 

As _Kingfisher_ cleared the confines of the launch tube, Clover could more easily visually assess the threat. A gargantuan Grimm ship hung in space perhaps a few hundred klicks away, a looming monstrosity of sharp angles and black metal. Hundreds of smaller Grimm craft swarmed in the intervening space, skirmishing with the small, automated Knight drones that had launched at the start of the attack. As Clover watched, yet more Grimm craft continued to blink into the space around the largest ship. _Akademiya_ ’s cannons were trained on the largest ship, bright green beams lancing through space and causing the enemy ship’s Aura to burn brightly. That seemed odd to Clover--Grimm ships typically lacked Aura technology, opting to win their battles by superiority in numbers and firepower instead. 

Clover banked sharply once he was clear of the station, looking for his allies. _Omen_ and _Harbinger_ were already headed for some of the larger Grimm ships that had made it past the Knight swarm and were headed for the station--it looked like a trio of Manticores, large, heavy ships that packed large amounts of firepower. But for their strength, Manticores were far less maneuverable than _Harbinger_ and _Omen_. Qrow and Raven would make short work of them. 

As he watched and assessed, a large weapon on the distant Grimm behemoth began to glow. A short second later, it loosed a powerful blast of plasma. The shot tore through space, headed for Mantle Station, a mere thousand klicks away. 

“Mantle Station, incoming!” Clover yelled into his comm. 

Mantle Station, staffed and populated almost entirely by civilians, had never received quite the same level of attention to its funding and defenses as the newer Atlas Station. It was heavily-populated, though--most residents of the Solitas quadrant were born in the densely-populated blocks of Mantle Station. Clover and his mother had lived in an apartment there, until he was old enough to join the Fleet, and had a salary that could pay for an apartment on Atlas Station. The station’s Aura glowed brightly and many of the station’s lights flickered, as power was diverted to the station’s defense. It wasn’t enough, however, as the enormous ball of plasma crashed through the Aura, plowing through the station’s flank in a sickening burst of metal, glass, and fire. The station’s Aura flickered, and reformed around the gash--the other residents would be safe for now, but who knew how many souls had just perished. He shuddered, and gritted his teeth.

Clover opened the throttle and threw _Kingfisher_ into motion, training his weapons on a nearby Ursa-class armored craft. Its silvered armor plating gave way moments before _Kingfisher_ ’s prow connected with its exterior, Clover’s unrelenting plasma fire paving the way as his ship tore through the bulky Grimm craft. _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ had just neatly bisected the last of the Manticores as he emerged from the wreckage of the Ursa.

A short ways ahead and slightly above, a large squadron of Teryx fighters advanced, a rapid hail of plasma fire peppering the space around them.

“Let’s draw their fire away from the station!” Clover said to Qrow and Raven.

He pulled _Kingfisher_ up, climbing high above Atlas Station, rolling and darting away from the plasma fire being trained on him. The problem with being pilots of such skill as the three of them was that any shots that missed them, which would be nearly all of them, would hit any large ships directly behind them--in this case, Atlas Station. The station’s Aura could easily take the tiny hits, but having seen the kind of damage that enemy ship could deliver, Atlas Station would need every drop of power in its reservoirs. It would also give them a positional advantage as the Teryxes adjusted their aim. 

As he drew near, Clover fell into formation with Qrow and Raven. The three ships plunged forward into the fight, training their fire by silent agreement on the nearest Grimm fighter. It broke apart quickly, and _Kingfisher_ surged ahead, leading two of the other _Teryxes_ to peel away in pursuit. Behind him, _Harbinger_ took the opportunity and lit them up, heavy blasts slamming into the comparatively vulnerable propulsion drives mounted to the outsides of the Grimm craft. In turn, _Omen_ dove into the heart of the squadron, thin, blindingly-bright red beams lancing out at the ships that now surrounded her, carving deep gashes of molten metal. Sparks jumped at the open wounds belching gas into the vacuum, as the red lights of the remaining Teryxes flickered. _Kingfisher_ and _Harbinger_ banked back towards them, quickly finishing them off. 

“Nicely done,” Clover told Raven and Qrow. _Kingfisher_ shuddered, and he felt a sudden, dull pain in his right shoulder-- _Kingfisher_ had taken a hit to its starboard side. “We’ve got company!” he said, rolling and increasing his thrust to get away from the threat. 

“No kidding!” Raven replied.

Clover rolled back to see what had hit him--a horde of Beowolves was closing rapidly, perhaps a hundred, maybe more. That was more than the three of them could take--but they had to try. As _Kingfisher_ swung into position, he closed his fists on the firing mechanism with a sharp yank. The targeting computer locked on to several of the leading Beowolves, and a long, thin rod detached from _Kingfisher_ ’s underside, its tip glowing with plasma, and a small Dust propulsion unit at its rear. It shot ahead, the plasma tip elongating into a sharp cone, coating the length of the rod with white-hot material. As _Kingfisher_ , _Harbinger_ , and _Omen_ began working through the pack of Grimm, the plasma harpoon arced through space, the propulsion unit making small heading adjustments to track the first ship _Kingfisher_ ’s computer had identified. It tore through the Beowolf, then a second, and a third, and finally a fourth Grimm craft had been impaled before the deadly plasma had run out, and the harpoon coasted out into empty space for Clover to be recovered. 

“Looks like we’ve got some of our own friends joining us!” Qrow said, as _Kingfisher_ swooped past the now-defunct harpoon, drawing it back into its bay. Clover looked--four Atlas ships had launched from the station, and were heading directly for them, easily obliterating a duo of Ursas in a flashing flurry of red and white energy beams and yellow plasma.

“ _Crescent Rose, Rapidity, Myrtenaster_ , and _Crocea Mors,_ good to see you!” Clover called out to Ruby, Harriet, Weiss, and Jaune. 

“Sorry we’re late!” Ruby replied. Clover could hear the worry in her voice. “The others are on their way too!”

Sure enough, moments later, three more ships crested the far side of Atlas station--Yang’s golden _Bumblebee_ , Blake’s sleek black _Gambol Shroud_ , and the imposing steel gray of Marrow’s _Hound_ . They were followed shortly thereafter by Ren, Nora, Elm, and Vine, in their own ships-- _Stormflower, Magnhild, Sequoia,_ and _Blackthorn_. 

“Whooo, it’s a party!” Nora hollered, as their ships entered communications range.

“Glad you made it,” Clover said, turning his attention back to the Beowolves, burying a volley of plasma into the underside of a Grimm ship that had attempted to approach from above. “Okay, listen up,” he said, pulling _Kingfisher_ away from the pack, so he could speak. “Mantle Station has already taken a direct hit. That big ship out there packs a real punch. We need to make our way out there and give _Akademiya_ a shot at taking it apart. It has an Aura, so our normal tactics for fighting Grimm don’t apply. But if we can get close, maybe we can find a weakness. That means we’ll be getting close to _Akademiya_ ’s firing solutions. Penny will do her best not to hit you, but she’s also focusing on keeping the stations safe, so let’s not give her more to worry about.”

“Is that big ship Salem?” Yang asked.

“General Ironwood seems to think so,” Clover replied. “At minimum, this is her fleet; there’s no question about that.”

“ _Rapidity_ and I can clear a path,” Jaune offered from _Crocea Mors_ . Over short distances, _Rapidity_ was the fastest ship in the fleet, and _Crocea Mors_ could provide her with shielding and protect her as she cleared a path.

“Good idea,” Clover said. “ _Crescent Rose, Bumblebee, Gambol Shroud,_ and _Myrtenaster_ , follow _Rapidity_ and _Crocea Mors_ \--be ready to keep Grimm off their tails, and do some damage yourselves once you’re in there. _Harbinger, Omen,_ and I will be right behind you, while _Sequoia_ , _Stormflower_ , _Magnhild,_ and _Blackthorn_ take up the rear.” 

If they could pull this off, they could rapidly drill deep into the Grimm fleet, delivering the explosive up-close power of Yang’s _Bumblebee_ and the precision damage output of Ruby’s _Crescent Rose_ , Blake’s _Gambol Shroud_ , and Weiss’s _Myrtenaster_ . He, Qrow, and Raven could use the opening provided by the lead six to look for the next move--some way to disable either that enemy ship’s weapons systems, or its Aura. Meanwhile, _Stormflower_ , _Magnhild, Sequoia_ , and _Blackthorn_ could leverage their ability to deal damage over a wide area to hold back the front of the Grimm fleet, as they inevitably tried to close in around the intruders. If they played their cards well, not only would they find an upper hand against Salem’s flagship, but perhaps they could also be a serious distraction to the rest of the Grimm fleet, securing a crucial advantage for the other Atlas ships.

The others signalled their agreement. _Crocea Mors_ and _Rapidity_ looped back toward Atlas Station, and when they met once more, the flat, shield-shaped _Crocea Mors_ extended several appendages and latched onto _Rapidity_ ’s smaller form. Their engines flared to life, and a thin blue blade of plasma extended from _Crocea Mors_ ’s edges. The remaining dozen ships of the Ace Ops and the Beacon team trained their fire on the leading edge of the Beowolf pack. Several Grimm disintegrated, while the others veered away from the concentrated attack, creating a brief opening. 

_Rapidity_ ’s engines roared to their full thrust, and dove into the Grimm fleet, weapons blazing, _Crocea Mors_ clamped to her hull. _Bumblebee, Crescent Rose, Gambol Shroud,_ and _Myrtenaster_ peeled off and followed immediately, _Crescent Rose_ channeling additional power to the three ships crowded around her, boosting their engines’ output until they too were travelling at immense speed down the hole _Rapidity_ and _Crocea Mors_ were carving. Clover folded his arms in and slammed the throttle back, plunging _Kingfisher_ in as well, _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ close behind.

Ahead, _Crocea Mors_ and _Rapidity_ had entered a spin, spiralling through the Grimm, _Crocea Mors_ slicing through Grimm hulls and ensuring that no side had an open shot at _Rapidity_ for more than a fraction of a second, while _Rapidity_ ’s guns continued to plow an expanding cone of debris ahead of them. Ruby, Blake, Yang, and Weiss’s ships were close enough behind that they were able to reserve their fire only for the odd ships that somehow evaded the tunneling duo of destruction at the front. 

That left most of the cleanup to Clover, Qrow, and Raven. The three ships weaved and rolled, red beams lancing out into the darkness, while pellets of plasma filled the void between them and the Grimm ships that attempted to fill the space that had just been cleared. As Clover veered around a large piece of debris, he caught a reflection of a large white blast behind them--the rear guard had their hands full keeping the rest of the fleet away.

“All good back there?” Clover asked.

“Just keep flying, and we’ll keep shooting!” Elm replied, her voice slightly distorted by the sounds of debris plinking off her ship, as if she were caught in a rainstorm of shrapnel. As if in confirmation, a large pink column of plasma sheared apart several Megoliath gunships below Clover--Nora was bringing out her heavy weaponry. 

A soft warning chimed in Clover’s ear. He glanced around, and saw several dashed blue lines appear on the display, some cutting through the Grimm fleet not far from their position--the Atlas defenses were online, and had established their own firing solutions to complement Penny’s. Moments later, a Wyvern destroyer drifted across one of the thin blue lines, and vanished in a puff of superheated ionized gas and a blindingly bright white flash. Similar explosions began to bloom across the battlespace. The station was outfitted with extremely high-energy plasma munitions--they could be accelerated to nearly the speed of light, meaning that not only did they impact with more energy than was contained in the entirety of _Kingfisher_ ’s Dust core, but the quirks of relativity meant that the light emitted by the glowing plasma, appearing white to those not in the line of fire, and red to those on the station, arrived at the target as extremely high-energy gamma rays, frying any onboard systems and beginning to ablate the hulls of enemy ships before the plasma even hit. That was why it was so important to avoid the firing solutions--an errant shot did not mean a damaged ship, but rather a vaporized ship. 

“ _Atlas_ has her firing solutions online!” Vine announced.

“They know we’re here,” Clover said, “As long as everyone watches the overlay, we’ll be fine--just don’t get too close. We just need to focus on our job, and let _Atlas_ do theirs.”

The Grimm fleet had apparently sent the smaller, lighter craft to the front lines, as the Grimm they encountered grew larger, more heavily-armored, and more dangerous the further into the fleet they penetrated. Many of these ships had arrived in the system well after Clover had left the launch bay--his information display now registered thousands of Grimm craft in the system, many sufficiently dangerous on their own to pose a threat to either of the stations. If they couldn’t find a way to deal some damage to the largest ship--to Salem, if she was indeed on board that ship--then Atlas and Mantle would be destroyed. They could not allow that to happen. Clover’s knuckles tightened, and he felt the back of his neck grow damp with sweat, as he concentrated ever harder on keeping the lane clear. Up ahead, Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang had begun shooting nonstop to help Harriet and Jaune continue to drill through the fleet.

Finally, they were out, and the gargantuan ship loomed before them--it had to have been nearly half the size of Atlas Station. Clover gulped. Up close, it was a truly intimidating presence; a sharp mess of oblique angles and black metal, and enormous cannons, each larger than _Kingfisher_ . These cannons periodically lit up, sending columns of energy lancing out across the battlespace, presumably targeting Atlas ships near the front lines, or perhaps simply landing hits on _Atlas_ and _Akademiya’s_ Auras. The truly enormous weapon that had fired on Mantle seemed not to have fired since then--perhaps as the battle had picked up the tempo, the ship had shifted its attention--or perhaps the weapon needed to recharge.

“Okay, _Harbinger_ , _Omen_ , and I will look for a weakness; everyone else hold the line and give us some cover if possible!” Clover said. He switched to a private channel to Qrow and Raven. “Okay, you two; you’re the recon experts. I’ll follow your lead; help keep the Grimm off of you.”

“On it, Lucky Charm,” Qrow replied.

Clover grinned at the nickname, and slid into position behind _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ as they peeled away from the group. Behind them, the rest of the team fanned out into groups of two or three. The ranks of Grimm fighters had begun to break formation, responding to the new threat from behind. _Kingfisher_ , _Harbinger_ , and _Omen_ raced up the side of Salem’s ship, testing the defenses with occasional potshots. _Stormflower_ and _Magnhild_ cruised by overhead, in pursuit of a Teryx fighter that had begun firing at Clover, Qrow, and Raven. The Teryx broke apart into several flaming pieces overhead, and slammed into the large ship’s Aura a few meters to Clover’s right. Clover veered left to avoid the fragments of metal that came flying his way, as Ren and Nora turned to the next threat.

“Trouble ahead,” Raven said over the comm. 

Clover turned his attention back to _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ \--six Boarbatusk brawlers were barreling across the face of Salem’s ship. These were small, highly-maneuverable ships, but which were nonetheless covered with heavy armor plating, along with spikes and lances for up-close fighting. Clover lifted a short ways off the face of Salem’s ship to get a better angle, and opened fire. Ahead of him, Qrow and Raven did the same, dodging and weaving as the Boarbatusks returned fire. The Boarbatusks veered around _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ as they met, banking sharply to come back from behind. _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ were the more maneuverable ships, however, with their fine netting of solar panel wings to boost their power reserves. Several Boarbatusks found themselves in the crosshairs for just too long, and turned to ash as hot plasma riddled their hulls with holes. _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ drifted apart to each pursue a different brawler, and the final remaining Boarbatusk saw an opening. It careened between the two ships, clearly looking to catch _Harbinger_ ’s flank unawares.

 _Oh no you don’t_ , Clover thought, and pushed his engine to maximum thrust, rocketing down towards the errant Grimm. He deployed _Kingfisher_ ’s hook as his hull grazed the Boarbatusk, veering to the left as the hook connected. Clover yanked hard on the controls, whipping the hooked Grimm forward as he released the hook. He spun _Kingfisher_ around once more, training his fire on the tumbling Boarbatusk. It broke up just as it hit the hull of Salem’s ship. One of the armor plates skidded across the hull and slammed into an exposed thruster. The thruster exploded in a shower of sparks.

Clover furrowed his brow. The ship’s aura should have stopped that. He fired a few experimental shots at the spot where the thruster had been, then a few at a patch of hull a few metres away. The plasma pellets that he fired at the thruster bit into the ship, leaving deep gouges in the metal--but the shots fired at the nearby patch of hull were absorbed by the Aura.

There was a hole, then. Clover switched back to the Atlas Fleet’s operations channel.

“We found a hole in the big ship’s defenses!” he said.

“Well what do you know,” said Qrow. “Looks like the Grimm couldn’t build an Aura generator big enough. This ship has a bunch of smaller generators. That’s why there’s a gap.”

There was a burst of static on the channel, but nothing Clover could understand.

“Did anyone else just get a load of static?” Jaune asked.

“We might be too close to this thing,” Vine replied. “It could be blocking our communications with the rest of the fleet.” Indeed, Clover hadn’t noticed in the heat of battle that there had been very little chatter from the rest of the fleet.

Nor did he notice the Beringel warship descending from above, a large, hulking craft outfitted with several plasma turrets. The space around him lit up with white fire as the warship opened fire, peppering _Kingfisher_ and Salem’s ship alike with plasma. Recoiling from the sting as _Kingfisher_ ’s Aura rippled chaotically from the impacts, Clover kicked open the throttle and banked away, trying to avoid the Beringel’s line of fire. Fortunately, the Beringel turned just a little too slowly, and the line of fire trailed Clover instead of tracking with him. Clover saw that Qrow and Raven were likewise dealing with a new contingent of dangerous Grimm opponents. Clover spread his wings and dived, training his fire on the exposed visual core at the bow of the Beringel. It was dubious whether or not he could take on a Beringel on his own, but at minimum he could try to blind it. The red orb of the visual core exploded in a shower of glass as he passed, and the turrets went silent. Clover swung _Kingfisher_ around, pausing briefly to turn a Beowolf into a cloud of hot gases, and trained his fire on the Beringel. The armor plates glowed red under the heat of the plasma, and finally cracked. The Beringel exploded as the next shot passed through the broken armor, and Clover had to roll to avoid a large, spinning shard of armor flying away from the destroyed Grimm craft. 

When he regained his bearing, he realized that he had become separated from Qrow and Raven. A wall of Grimm stood between him and _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ , and more and more seemed to be swarming the two ships. It seemed that the Grimm had noticed that they had discovered the weakness.

 _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ flashed as they fought, black and red iridescent glints in a roiling sea of Grimm. 

“You’re on your own at the moment,” Clover told them. “We got separated. I’ll try to fight my way over.”

“Don’t bother,” Qrow replied. “There’s too many for you to fight on your own. Go get the others; we’ll manage.” Clover wanted to object, but he was right--at least a hundred Grimm now lay between him and them.

Clover coasted away from Salem a short distance, then opened the throttle and began to fight his way through to the others. As he passed the swarming mass where Qrow and Raven were fighting, all he could see was rapid flashes of movement. At least fifty Grimm craft were all firing simultaneously--there was no way _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ weren’t taking many heavy hits. They couldn’t hold like that for long.

Clover swore, and turned _Kingfisher_ back toward the twins. He rolled away from a floating piece of debris, all while shooting down one target, then the next. As he continued, however, it became more and more difficult--the carnage Qrow and Raven were wreaking had created an expanding sphere of debris, and _Kingfisher_ lacked the power reserves or precision to vaporize every piece of debris in the way. Reluctantly, Clover turned _Kingfisher_ around once more, and retreated to a safe distance.

“Time to see if this thing works,” Raven said, her voice barely audible on her comm through the din of the fire her ship was taking. 

“What?” Clover asked. “The Folding Device? Raven, you said it wasn’t ready!”

“Well, we’re running out of options, here!” Raven replied. She was right. More and more Grimm were pouring onto the battlespace. This of course was making it easier to defend Atlas and Mantle, but it was bad news for Raven and Qrow. 

Clover caught a glimpse of a red, gaseous swirl near the center of the Grimm swarm, and then nearly instantaneously, a swirling, red gaseous ring materialized fifty metres from where Raven had been. _Omen_ shot out of the ring, her energy beams swinging wildly, cutting Grimm to ribbons, as the portal dissipated behind her. She dove back into the fray, and in the brief glimpse afforded by the maneuver, Clover saw that _Omen’s_ solar panel wings had become tattered. That was bad--without the extra power those panels provided, _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ would be unable to maintain their current level of agility--putting themselves in more danger. As Raven dove in, the portal flared again, and then again, as Raven used the new device to gain the advantage and help her brother avoid getting pinned down. 

The Grimm kept coming, though. 

“ _Harbinger_ , _Omen_ , you need to get out of there if possible,” Clover warned. “It’s about to get real hot in there.”

“It’s already pretty hot,” Qrow replied.

“Exactly; now get out of there, we can let Penny and Atlas target the weak spot,” Clover urged.

“I think I can jump us out,” Raven offered. 

“Raven, you’re talking about jumping hundreds of klicks! You’ve been doing a fraction of those distances!” Clover objected.

“I don’t think we have a choice, plant boy,” Raven responded. “I’ve taken some big hits, and so has Qrow. At this rate, we won’t last another minute. I’m spooling up the drive, and I’ll try to jump us back to Atlas Station. We can grab spare Bullhead fighters from the station and rejoin you out here.”

“We have to try, Clover. See you soon,” Qrow added.

Clover sighed. “Good luck, you two,” he said.

The red swirl of a portal grew larger and larger, as Raven spooled up the drive. Moments later, both _Omen_ and _Harbinger_ entered the portal. Unlike previous jumps, however, this time the portal didn’t dissipate. Instead, it flashed, and seemed to turn inside-out--going from a circle to a thin, spoked shape, with thin red tendrils snaking out through space. As Clover watched, the tendrils seemed to snake further and further away from the spot where the portal had been opened. One of the tendrils reached a Grimm Sabyr. The Sabyr’s hull twisted and warped where the tendril passed through it, and then the Sabyr had been torn apart--as if everything the tendril touched tried to turn itself inside out. The other tendrils continued to expand, snaking their way out across the battlespace, and more and more Grimm craft suffered the same fate.

Clover yanked hard on the controls, bringing _Kingfisher_ about as quickly as he could.

“We need to get out of here now!” he told the others. “Clear a path, we need to get as far away as possible, right now!”

“What’s going on?” Ruby asked.

“Raven and Qrow jumped away with Raven’s new drive, but it did something, and whatever it did is destroying whatever it touches!” Clover said, as he pushed his throttle open, weaving and rolling around debris and Grimm alike as he frantically made his way back. “Harriet and Jaune, clear a path, everyone else, concentrate your fire on the Grimm in front of Harriet and Jaune; we are all getting out of this alive!”

 _Crocea Mors_ and _Rapidity_ united once more, and began their breakneck plunge through the remains of the Grimm fleet, the concentrated fire of the other ten ships shredding any Grimm that threatened to come too close for comfort. Clover and the other ships were not far behind--everyone had pushed their engines to the limit.

Before long, they had managed to get clear of the battlespace, and were able to slow down, regroup, and see what was going on. Voices broke through on the comms--they had gotten beyond the range of whatever was blocking their communications.

They had gotten out just in time--the red tendrils were still visible at this distance, hundreds of klicks away, but a gray cloud of debris was rapidly expanding away from Salem’s ship--hundreds, perhaps even thousands of Grimm were being destroyed, by whatever it was Raven had created.

Suddenly, Salem’s ship appeared to bend. Its Aura flickered and then went out. A moment later, half of the ship imploded, while the other half exploded, shedding debris violently in every direction. A shock wave rushed out into the debris field, scattering dust and shrapnel, and sending the remaining Grimm tumbling. Unable to maneuver properly, the enemy craft had no way to avoid the deadly tendrils, winding their sinuous way through space. Clover began to grow concerned that Atlas and Mantle Stations might be in danger, but as the tendrils hungrily consumed every craft in their vicinity, their advance began to slow, as the number of intact ships remaining dwindled. Eventually, the tendrils simply hung in space, glittering red turbulent curves that gave no hint of their incredible lethality.

Cheers broke out over the comms, and Clover breathed a sigh of relief. “Qrow? Raven?” he called into the comm, once the cheering had died down. There was no answer. “Atlas?” he tried.

“Go ahead, Captain Ebi,” replied the Atlas Station dispatch officer. 

“Do you have _Harbinger_ and _Omen_ on your scans?” Clover asked.

“No, sir,” came the reply. “We lost track of them around where that… thing came from. Usually that means the ships have been destroyed.”

“I know what it usually means,” Clover snapped. A heavy, cold dread filled him. Where had they jumped to? “They made it out of there,” he continued. “Just-- just keep an eye out for them.”

“Yes, sir,” the officer replied. “We’ll let you know if they show up.” 

Clover bit his lip. This was not good. What if they had jumped into a different system? Or into Salem’s ship? His mind raced as he tried to imagine where they might be. He refused to let himself contemplate the possibility that the jump had failed and they were completely gone. He had only had two years with them--with Qrow. There was still so much he wanted--more card games, more chats in the hall, more missions. He just wanted more time. He refused to believe that this was it; this was all he would get.

“Um… Captain Ebi, sir?” Ruby asked, hesitantly. “What happened to my Uncle Qrow? And--and to Raven?”

Clover shook his head sharply. “I--I don’t know,” he replied, shakily. “They jumped, with--with Raven’s new Folding Device. I don’t know where they went. But we’ll find them. I promise. I’m going to find them.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years after Qrow and Raven disappeared through a tear in the fabric of the universe, Clover finally has an opportunity to go after them.

Clover followed Marrow into the  _ Akademiya _ ’s launch bay. The rest of the Ace-Ops were there, along with General Ironwood and Dr. Polendina, as well as the kids from Beacon--though Clover supposed he couldn’t think of them as kids anymore, not that they had been kids when he had met them, either--young adults, really. It had been five years since they had first come to Atlas, and since the battle against Tyrian Callows. They had all matured into extremely capable adults, and had become as integral to the team as any of the Ace-Ops. Clover had suggested they be officially inducted into the Ace-Ops as employees of the Atlas Fleet, and while they had accepted the pay and benefits, they insisted that they not be called the Ace-Ops. Debates raged weekly over what the new team name should be. Clover had never joined in, though--he had been able to focus on only one thing.

After Qrow and Raven disappeared through the portal, Clover had been inconsolable. For months, he had been unable to sleep, worrying about Qrow and Raven, replaying the events of the battle through his head. Finding all the things he could have done differently, that might have changed the outcome. Every day that first week, he had checked with the analysts and technicians to see if  _ Harbinger _ or  _ Omen _ had showed up on scans. He had only stopped when Dr. Polendina had angrily confronted him one morning, telling him that he was keeping the analysts from their jobs--and that their initial scans of the tendrils suggested that the portal remnant inside didn’t connect with any known location in Remnant space. Wherever Qrow and Raven were, it was nowhere close enough to show up on scans. 

The fleet psychologist had pushed Clover not to blame himself; he argued that sometimes your luck just runs out. No amount of therapy however could change the fact that Clover had lost his friends, and particularly that he had lost Qrow--the first person in a very long time whose presence and companionship made him truly happy. Clover felt guilty that he missed Qrow the most--both twins were equally capable and valuable fighters, and Raven was a lovely friend, and Yang’s mother. He had confessed this to the psychologist, and asked what was wrong with him--but the man had simply raised an eyebrow at Clover, before changing the topic and asking about Clover’s evening bedtime habits.

So Clover had jumped at the opportunity when General Ironwood and Dr. Pietro Polendina had agreed to let him help investigate Qrow and Raven’s disappearance. After the initial painful debrief immediately after the battle, and aside from Dr. Polendina’s angry outburst, everyone--Ozpin, Ironwood, Polendina, and Polendina’s science team--had refused to tell Clover anything about any efforts to study the tendrils, or mount rescue expeditions. As it turned out, they all had strict orders to not let him get involved until his mood was deemed stable enough for his participation to be safe and healthy. Joining the investigation probably hadn’t been healthy anyway, but the fleet psychologist had given up and made the case to Ironwood that without something productive to do related to the disappearance, Clover’s health would only worsen. Ironwood and Polendina had told him then that they were studying the tendrils, footage of the battle, and Raven’s lab notes, trying to determine what had gone wrong, what had happened, and what the tendrils now meant for finding Raven and Qrow. Clover could help by comparing early texts on Folding Device testing to what he had seen during the battle.

Although working on the project had finally allowed Clover to sleep at night, he still felt uneasy spending his free time on anything else. Whenever his schedule had a break that he didn’t need to use to sleep, he returned to the station’s library, poring over book and book, lab notebook after lab notebook. After a while, Ruby and Yang had joined him as well.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any additional tasks I can assign,” Dr. Polendina had objected, when Ruby had asked to join the project. “Our biggest obstacle is just working out the equations for what’s going on in those tendrils!”

“I--I can learn the math! I’ll help! If there’s a way that I can help find my uncle, and Raven, I’ll do it!” she had insisted. So Ruby had thrown herself into math textbooks, and then into physics textbooks, and then cosmology textbooks. 

Yang had offered to fly probes to the tendrils to take data for the science team. “I want to help find my mom and my uncle,” she had said. “Ruby’s got the math thing, but you need someone who isn’t afraid to get up close to those tendrils, and I’m a damn good pilot. I can get your probes there and keep myself safe.” Clover knew that Yang and Raven had had a complicated relationship, one that neither discussed openly. But losing someone has a way of putting things in perspective.

For over two years, Ruby and Yang had been Clover’s companions, as they poured all of their energy into finding Qrow and Raven. They smiled at him now, as he strode forward to greet the team, Marrow at his side. They had grown close--Ruby had Qrow’s mischievous streak, and Yang had certainly inherited Raven’s determination and sass. Working alongside them both, it had almost been like Qrow and Raven weren’t fully gone.

“You’re looking sharp today, Cloves,” Yang remarked.

“Well, firecracker,” he said, using Qrow’s favorite nickname for his niece, “it’s a big day. Might be the day I see your mom and uncle. Can’t go meet them looking like garbage.”

Yang gave him a playful punch on the arm. “You look great,” she said, with a warm smile. “Good luck.”

Ruby stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. “You be safe out there!” she admonished him. “I don’t want to lose you, too. I’ve already lost one uncle. You make sure to bring him and Raven back.”

Clover squeezed Ruby and gently lifted her off the ground. “Don’t worry, Ruby. General Ironwood and Dr. Polendina wouldn’t let me go until they were sure it would be reasonably safe. You should know--you wrote the equations for keeping  _ Kingfisher _ from getting torn apart.”

Ruby sniffled, and wiped a tear from her eye with her sleeve as Clover released her. “I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m worried. What if--what if I made a mistake? What if I missed something?”

Clover chuckled. “You’ve done everything you could,” he replied. “We all have. We chased down every lead, we wrote new equations, and we invented new tech. Now we have an opportunity to bring them back. All that’s left to wish for is luck.”

“Well,” Ruby said. “Good luck.”

Clover turned to say his goodbyes to the Ace-Ops, but Elm was already there, and before he knew what was happening, all four Ace-Ops had borne him to the ground in a tight group hug.

“Hey,” he said, his voice muffled by someone’s shoulder. “You guys are gonna wrinkle my clothes.”

“We all have wrinkle-free uniforms,” Harriet replied. 

Eventually, however, the warm pressure on Clover lessened, as the Ace-Ops picked themselves up off the floor. Clover stood up and carefully smoothed his hair. 

“It’s been an honor sir,” Ren said, stepping forward and extending a hand. “I’ll look forward to your return.” Clover shook his hand firmly. Jaune extended a hand silently as well, as did Weiss. Nora simply stepped forward and pulled Clover into a wordless hug.

“Bring them back,” she whispered, as she pulled away. Clover nodded to her, and then turned to Ironwood and Polendina.

“Your ship is ready,” Dr. Polendina said, rolling forward in his wheelchair. He had a small box in his lap. “There’s one more thing, though.” He lifted the lid of the box, and pulled out a necklace. A small, emerald-green device, inlaid with thin silver wiring, hung on a silver chain. “We can open the portal from here. But who knows where you’re going--we can’t just keep it open from here forever. So we created a device that should prompt the portal to reopen so long as it’s near you when you enter. We thought a necklace might be ideal--harder to lose it that way.”

Clover took the necklace from Polendina, and carefully fastened it around his neck. The device hung nicely between his lapels, giving off a slight warmth that he could just barely feel through his shirt. Dr. Polendina reached back into the box, and drew out two more necklaces, each identical to the one Clover was wearing. 

“Hopefully you can come back with Qrow and Raven in tow,” Polendina said. “But just in case, if you find them but then get separated, give them each a device as well. We have no idea if the tendrils will go away once you complete a trip there and back successfully. It certainly seems like Raven opened a tear in the fabric of the universe that won’t close anytime soon, but my goodness, we only just learned how to tear that hole open a little wider. I haven’t the faintest notion what might cause it to close again. So bring the both of them back, together, if you can. But if you can’t--some backups can’t hurt.”

Clover took the other two necklaces, and carefully slid them into his pack. “How do I use the device?” he asked.

“We made it simple,” Dr. Polendina replied. “As long as you’re within a hundred meters of the rift, just give it a squeeze. That will activate the Dust core inside and power up the device. It emits a field that will cause the rift to shift into a new, wider, stable state--one that hopefully a ship can fit through. Try not to squeeze it too much away from the rift, though--I don’t know how much abuse that little thing can take.”

“Got it, Dr. Polendina,” Clover said. “Thank you. For all your work on this. I really appreciate it.”

Dr. Polendina smiled. “You just bring those two troublemakers home,” he said, as he rolled back to the others.

Clover turned to Ironwood. “General,” he said, with a salute.

General Ironwood scoffed. “Come on, no need for that, Clover,” he said. “Please, promise me you’ll be careful.” General Ironwood had been deeply displeased when Clover had insisted that he be allowed to fly the rescue mission. They’d had a shouting match in Ironwood’s office. Objects had been slammed onto desks and thrown onto the floor. Ironwood had argued that sending their best pilot, having already lost two of the Fleet’s best pilots, was an enormous tactical risk. They assumed Salem had been killed when her ship was torn apart by the rift, but there was no way to know for sure that she had actually been aboard the ship. Ironwood wanted to retain a high readiness level in case she came back. Clover had pointed out that when two of the Fleet’s best pilots were at stake, and recovering them required flying through a rift in spacetime that no other pilot had ever navigated successfully, the only logical course of action was to send your best pilot. The general had finally conceded, and allowed Clover to go.

“I’ll do my best, sir. I’ll bring them back. Both of them,” Clover replied.

“Then good luck, Clover. We’ll be waiting for you right here,” Ironwood replied. 

“Thank you, sir,” Clover said. He reached out to shake Ironwood’s hand, but Ironwood stepped forward and pulled him into a hug instead.

“Call me James,” Ironwood said, quietly.

“Thank you, James,” Clover replied. Ironwood released Clover, and clapped him on the shoulder, before stepping back so Clover could climb into  _ Kingfisher _ . 

_ Kingfisher _ was the most beautiful she had ever been, her white panels polished to a gleam, and the red accents freshly-painted. A sleek navy blue crest had been added just behind the cockpit--the new component carried the Branwen Folding Device, the drive that would allow  _ Kingfisher _ to navigate Raven’s rift. Clover took a deep breath, turned to give one last wave to his assembled friends and teammates, and then hauled himself up into the cockpit. 

He placed his pack in the small storage space beside the cradle, and lowered himself into the fabric. The smooth, warm material molded itself around his body, as he slid his arms into the familiar holes, and notched his feet into the propulsion controls. As he lowered his head into the cradle, Penny’s voice chimed in his ear.

“Good morning, Captain Ebi,” she said. “All your systems look good, and the BFD is passing all checks! You are clear for launch!”

“Thanks, Penny. I’ll see you soon!” Clover replied. 

“Oh, and Clover?” Penny added. “Good luck.”

Clover grinned as his engines spooled up. He took a deep breath, and opened the throttle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues in Part 2--The Necklace of Time!


End file.
